Midnight Monologue

[Richdog]

Do you ever have one of those experiences where you’re sitting in your room, flicking different webpages, never finding one that can hold your interest for more than 5 seconds because, at 3am and after 5 hours straight of wasting time, you’ve already read all the updates on twitter and cheezburger and Facebook? And then suddenly this state of mind hits you and everything becomes clear, like in one of those Claritin commercials when they take the fuzzy film away from the screen. You are suddenly aware of every muscle in your body, every little discarded candy wrapper old cd on your desk seem to jump out at you. And Gone is your dreary, fuzzy headedness and in its place is the strong, no, all-consuming sense that you have to do something. Something creative and important. And you have to do it right now. You look around your room for something to do to the Tron soundtrack playing on Pandora in the background. Legos, a deck of cards, an old trombone that you haven’t touched since middle school (which your parents probably wouldn’t appreciate you reacquainting yourself with at this hour anyway). No. these are not the creative materials from which you are going to build your masterpiece. You contemplate climbing out your first floor window just so you can go sprint around the neighborhood, but no, that’s not life-defining enough. That photo editing that you just started doing in the hopes of winning a Cracked Photo/plasty contest? No. You go and do 20 pushups to vent the excess, nervous energy which you feel must be reaching critical levels before sitting back down at your desk. No that’s a lie too, you just wrote that down to make yourself sound cool, when really the moment you gave serious thought to physical activity, you decided strongly against it. And then you realize that you’re writing. In Microsoft-bloody-word. And then you wonder why you are submitting yourself to the one thing you cannot stand doing all semester long, which is also the one thing you did not have to do these 3 days you were home on thanksgiving break. You go and do the 20 pushups, for real this time to punish yourself for writing (creative writing, no less) when you didn’t have to. Hmm… that didn’t help, if anything the activity elevated your heart rate too much to even think of going to sleep now. You don’t feel like masturbating (you’re usual go-to when you’re bored) because you’re not in the mood after jerkin’ it once (ok, ok twice) already today. Or was that yesterday. You guess technically it was yesterday, but what does it er anyway? You decide you’d better stop free writing before you start getting philosophical. The last thing you do before falling asleep is to mentally kick yourself for not saving your rambling monologue in case you could gotten $50 for it at Cracked….

[WD-40]

Drugs?…

I should get completely drunk and write a monologue just to see what it looks like the next day. Bet it'd be a bit bizarre too.

[Richdog]

if i ever used drugs, i'll bet that's what it'd feel like. It was fun writing a stream-of-consciousness short. Hope ya'll enjoyed it. @WD, set a date and i'll have a drunk post duel with you.

[Commander Sparrow]

Drugs?…

I should get completely drunk and write a monologue just to see what it looks like the next day. Bet it'd be a bit bizarre too.

+1

I shall do the same someday